This Isn’t an E*otic Game?

"What?!"

"The— the furnaces have gone cold! The last of the skilled workers keeping them running have all walked off the job! They've all gone cold!"

"Are they insane?! H-How... Just— Just tell me it’s only your factory! Tell me it’s just yours!"

"It’s the same everywhere!! Every last skilled worker who stayed until the end has walked out! Every single furnace in Scrap Yard is cold! No one’s working in the mines, either! What are we supposed to do?!"

The whiskey bottle in Biyas’s hand slipped from his grasp.

The glass shattered against the floor, spilling whiskey like spilled blood across the ground.

But Biyas didn’t even notice.

"Those... those filthy bastards... Those vermin have lost their minds!!"

"Mayor, it’s not just the skilled workers. Every laborer in the city is leaving. Scrap Yard is emptying out!"

"Are they trying to starve to death?! What the hell is outside the city?!"

"A free meal center and a field hospital!"

"...What?"

"The Grace Order and Karma Company have set up massive food distribution points outside the city! A train loaded with supplies just arrived, and they’re distributing the food evenly! Mayor!!"

If being rejected by Duke Lima and High Bishop Lupheus had felt like taking a punch to the gut, this was like getting a full-force hammer swing to the back of the skull.

Biyas’s face turned as pale as a corpse.

"Wh-Where?! Where is this happening?!"

"At the East Gate, where the train line connects!"

"Bring the car around! We’re going now!"

Biyas wasn't the only one caught in a panic.

As they approached the East Gate, a line of factory owners' cars was already parked in a row.

Under the escort of Scrap Yard’s police, Biyas and the factory owners rushed forward—

And froze at the sight before them.

It was a nightmare.

"There’s plenty to eat, everyone!! Freshly made vegetable soup with ingredients straight from the South!"

High Priest Yodel and the priests of the Grace Order were handing out meals to the poor with practiced ease.

On one side, clerics were treating the sick with unrelenting focus.

"Roast turkey, right over here!!

Brought to you personally by Chairman Jonathan Karma!!

If you’d prefer pork, head over that way! Plenty of roasted pork available!!"

The sound of meat sizzling filled the air.

Starving workers devoured bowls of soup and plates of meat.

Workers in Karma Company uniforms were moving nonstop, preparing more and more food without rest.

Biyas and the factory owners felt dizzy.

At this rate, why the hell would the workers ever come back to the factories?!

"Th-This... this is..."

Biyas stammered helplessly.

Then, he saw them.

A middle-aged gentleman approached, accompanied by a young female secretary.

"Mayor Biyas, I presume?"

"I had a feeling you'd come here sooner or later, so I waited."

"My name is Jonathan Karma. And this is my secretary—well, secretary and wife—Oliviera."

Under normal circumstances, Biyas would have forced a smile, put on his best politician’s mask.

But right now?

There was no time for masks.

"What... What exactly is going on here, Mr. Jonathan Karma?"

Jonathan smiled easily.

"What does it look like? We’re aiding the poor."

"My wife and I are followers of Lady Lilia, after all."

"We simply can’t stand by and watch the suffering of the hungry and the sick. Haha!"

The casual, carefree way Jonathan spoke made Biyas’s head spin.

His eyes darted around the scene, scanning everything.

Then, suppressing his emotions, he forced a fake smile.

"Why don’t we continue this conversation inside?"

"How about it?"

Jonathan chuckled and nodded.

"Sounds good. Standing out here was starting to get tiring."

Biyas and the factory owners led Jonathan Karma and his wife into the city.

They entered Scrap Yard’s Town Hall, heading to a grand reception room.

The moment Jonathan and Oliviera sat on the sofa—

"Jonathan, let me get straight to the point."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? No tea?

"My wife and I have simple tastes, you know. We don’t need any fancy aged tea to enjoy a conversation."

Jonathan laughed pleasantly.

Biyas felt like he was on fire.

But he bit back his anger.

Now was the time to persuade, not antagonize.

"Jonathan, why are you doing this?"

Jonathan tilted his head.

"Doing what?"

"Do you even understand how many people live in this city?"

"A little over a million, if I recall correctly."

"Exactly!

Do you have any idea how much it costs to feed that many people every day?!"

"About 100,000 Saled, at today’s market price."

"It’s quite an expense, I must admit."

"Exactly.

That’s a ridiculous amount of money to spend daily!"

"Surely you realize how much of a financial loss this is?!"

Jonathan chuckled.

"Of course. And it’s not just food, you know."

"Running the soup kitchens, the medical centers... the additional costs keep piling up."

"Not to mention wages for the staff and transportation fees to bring supplies here."

"Oh, and I hired some excellent chefs, too. Good ones are expensive, you know."

He was still smiling.

Biyas felt his sanity slipping.

"Why?"

"Why are you taking such a loss?!"

"You have no connection to Scrap Yard! What’s your real reason for doing this?!"

Jonathan’s smile didn’t waver.

"I’m simply using my own money to help the poor."

"Isn’t that something a mayor should be happy about?"

Biyas’s patience snapped.

"Listen, Jonathan. You don’t have to do this.

This is our city.

We’ll handle our own problems.

You don’t need to take any more losses—just pack up and leave."

Jonathan’s smile widened.

"As I’ve already said, I can’t do that."

Biyas gritted his teeth.

The sound of them grinding together was audible.

"Why?!"

Jonathan sighed theatrically.

"Didn’t I already explain? My wife and I are followers of Lady Lilia."

"......"

"The Goddess of Grace told me to spread her grace in this city.

"And so, I’m doing exactly ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ that."

"Seeing the workers enjoy roast turkey... Ah, it fills my heart with joy!"

"Hahaha! The way they eat is just so... heartwarming!"

Biyas’s fingernails dug into his palm.

"......"

"It reminded me of when Cecilia was a child."

"That’s my daughter, by the way. She’s quite the rising star in high society these days!"

"The number of invitations she gets is truly astounding!"

"Anyway, food is important, you know."

"She was quite skinny as a child, so I understand these things very well—"

"Jonathan."

Biyas forced a laugh.

"I see I need to be a little more direct with you."

Finally.

Biyas’s Patience Snapped.

And the factory owners’ patience snapped right along with it.

"We’re telling you to stop interfering and get the hell out.

Stop stealing our workers."

"Go back to the capital and stay satisfied with your life there, Mr. Jonathan."

"Why the hell are you sticking your nose into the metal industry all of a sudden?

Do you even know anything about it?"

"You think we’ll just sit back and do nothing?

Your factories need our steel for automobiles, for construction.

Do you seriously think you can mess with the Empire’s largest steel producer and walk away unscathed?!"

Even as the factory owners and Biyas raged, Jonathan remained completely at ease.

He let all their threats wash over him as he casually pulled out a cigarette.

"Jonathan Karma!! No matter how powerful you think you are, you can’t just turn all of Scrap Yard against you and—!!"

Jonathan took a slow drag of his cigarette.

Then, exhaling the smoke smoothly, he spoke.

"Since we’re being honest, I’ll be honest too.

"How long do you think you can last against me?"

His lips were still curved into a smile.

But it wasn’t the same smile as before.

"Three days? A week? A month?"

"If you last three weeks, I’d say that’s impressive."

"Ha!! You think we won’t last more than three weeks, Jonathan Karma?!"

Jonathan’s smile didn’t waver.

"You won’t."

"Because, as of today, your biggest clients—the Southern industrial zone and the Mage Towers—have both refused to pay you."

Silence.

"Did you forget?

The majority of the Southern industrialists are Lilia believers.

"Consider this their punishment for going against the Saint."

"And conveniently enough, your factories are already shut down, aren’t they? You won’t even be able to meet your contracted supply quotas."

"......"

"As for the Mage Towers..."

"Well, I bought out every ounce of magic metal from the Mars Mage Tower branch and agreed to supply it to the other towers at a discounted rate."

"So for now, they won’t be coming to you."

"Y-You... you...!!"

"And by now, I’d wager your furnaces have all gone cold, haven’t they?"

"Unfortunate. That means you’re completely out of the steel business."

"You’ll have to tear them down and rebuild them from scratch."

"No money, no production..."

"Ah, and let’s not forget—"

"You’re also about to be investigated by the Pantheon and the Black Fortress, aren’t you?"

"Heresy trials and financial audits at the same time... truly terrible luck."

Jonathan chuckled as he blew out another puff of smoke, watching the speechless, trembling factory owners and Biyas.

"Didn’t you just say feeding the workers was a waste of money?"

"I don’t see it that way."

"I see it as an investment."

"An investment required to swallow Scrap Yard whole."

"You took out quite a few loans from Martok Bank recently, didn’t you? For your new mining operations?"

Biyas’s eyes widened.

But Jonathan’s next words made them go even wider.

"Martok Bank?

"As of today, it's owned by Karma Company."

"The paperwork was signed before I even arrived."

"So officially, as of today... I am your creditor."

"I’m quite curious now—how do you plan to repay your debt?"

Dead silence.

Biyas’s hands trembled.

The factory owners looked like they’d been struck by lightning.

"Sooner or later—

You’re going to hand over your precious factories to me."

"Whether you like it or not."

"By force, if necessary."

Finally, they realized.

The man standing before them wasn’t some benevolent philanthropist handing out food.

He wasn’t here for charity.

He had calculated every move.

He had come here to hunt.

"Th-There’s no way... You don’t... you don’t have that kind of money...!"

Jonathan sighed, looking genuinely amused.

"I do, Biyas."

"Enough money to feed nearly a million people for ten years."

"Enough money to buy an entire bank in a single day."

"Enough money to rebuild every destroyed furnace from scratch."

"Enough money to reshape this entire city into whatever I want."

"To be precise..."

"Karma Company’s revenue for this quarter alone is more than enough to cover it all."

Jonathan snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

Then, he turned to Biyas with a cold smile.

"Biyas."

Jonathan and Oliviera rose from their seats.

The husband and wife both smiled.

"Do you really think you can win against a company

that has an infinite supply of Elixir pouring from the ground—

and doesn’t have to pay taxes for the next ten years?"

It was a smile that sent chills down the spine.